


Of Monsters and Men

by fleurofthecourt



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Monroe meet long before Nick has any idea he's a Grimm. Despite still getting off on the wrong foot, they eventually begin dating, and a few months later, they discover, to a great deal of confusion and anger, that they're supposed to be mortal enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Monsters and Men

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Kink-Meme Prompt: (of course, I feel obligated to mention the prompt was my own...and if you want to fill it too, by all means!) I think it would be interesting to explore Nick and Monroe's relationship if they were to discover the Blutbad/Grimm dynamic after they'd been in a relationship for a while. 
> 
> It's up to you whether Monroe has tried to tell Nick about Blutbaden and Grimms prior to them waking up one morning and seeing each others' other sides for the first time. I feel like it would be a lot more comical if he hadn't though. 
> 
> As for Aunt Marie, I'm thinking that either, since it's an AU anyway, Nick isn't as close to her as he is in the show or he's just never mentioned her last name to Monroe, so Monroe doesn't connect the dots until it's waaay too late.
> 
> Also, Nick is still a detective, Monroe is still a clockmaker.

_One more week_ Nick thought bitterly as he slowly edged the police cruiser alongside a yellow bug. _Just one more week_

It wasn’t as though he didn’t help people get keys out of their cars on a near daily basis. He’d done it for going on three years. However, since he was only a week away from being promoted to detective, the banal quality of the task seemed particularly demeaning. 

It was also barely 7 a.m. 

And, even more frustrating, the owner of the car didn’t seem to be anywhere in sight. 

He’d already been disappointed by the street’s only sign of life -- an elderly couple walking back from the local farmer’s market. They’d climbed into a station wagon on the other side of the road after a mild scuffle over where to put their strawberries. 

He looked down at the description again to make sure he was in the right place. It definitely said a yellow Volkswagen, parked on the left side of Peoria Street. That was where he was, and what the car looked like. The only information he couldn’t verify was the owner’s name, listed by dispatch as... Marilyn Monroe. 

He rolled his eyes. He gave the new guy that they had answering the phone a week to shape up or be fired. 

All he could surmise from his given information was that he was most likely looking for a woman. 

So, when a gruff-looking man in his mid thirties came hurtling towards the car, looking for all the world like he was fleeing a crime scene, carrying a nondescript brown paper bag, Nick jumped to the kind of conclusions that proved hindsight was usually 20/20. 

Without a second of hesitation, he pinned the man against the driver’s side door, his hands pulling at the material of the guy’s thick navy blue sweater vest. 

The man dropped his bag and pulled his hands up in surrender. Two heads of lettuce rolled across the pavement. 

Although the guy did have a bag full of green, Nick imagined that unless he’d just held up the farmer’s market for it, the guy probably just wanted back in his car. 

However, refusing to completely dismiss the idea that the man was ill intentioned, Nick gave him a thorough once over before dropping his own hands to his sides. 

He realized, belatedly, that the once over might have been for the wrong reasons. The guy was attractive, in a rugged woodsman kind of way.

And in different circumstances, what had just happened could have been considered foreplay. 

So, to keep things on course, he focused on the negative -- the guy’s eyes appeared faintly red, which left him wondering, a little too hopefully, if maybe he did some kind of drugs. 

Of course, the fact that he was at a farmer’s market at seven in the morning suggested he wasn’t really the type. 

Furthermore, the guy was dressed nicely enough, his beard and mustache were trimmed neatly, and he smelled strongly of soap and aftershave -- strongly enough that Nick was almost reluctant to pull away. 

Finally, accepting that he’d probably just made this guy’s already bad day worse and, consequently, flirting would get him nowhere, Nick reached down and picked up the lettuce and offered it back to him. “This is your car then?” 

“You don’t miss much, huh?” The guy asked with biting sarcasm. Yeah, definitely nowhere. 

Figuring he couldn’t really upset the guy more, though, he asked, “You’re not Marilyn Monroe by any chance, are you?” 

Then again, maybe he could. The guy gave Nick a scathing look, clearly questioning his sanity. 

Perhaps, unsurprisingly, he didn’t take the lettuce. 

“Just Monroe,” he said grudgingly. “Well, I guess I have to give you my first name for this. But I don’t go by it, and it’s definitely not Marilyn.” 

“I do have to have it,” Nick said apologetically, setting the lettuce aside and pulling out his notepad. He spent the next several minutes writing down Monroe’s personal information -- so he was, rather unethically, getting a phone number out of this -- and collecting his tools for levering the door. 

As he started his work, he looked up at Monroe who was watching him with an air of sullen disinterest. He tried to at least extend an olive branch. “I’m sorry about before, but you were running like a madman.” 

“You were waiting for someone to come to get in this car though, weren’t you?” Monroe asked. “What are you new? I mean, I doubt it’s protocol to jump on people just for running.” 

Without bothering to respond, Nick focused all of his attention on levering the door and rolling down the window. He could do that, at least, without giving the guy any further incentive to question his intelligence. And maybe, Nick hoped, he’d enjoy watching him work, though that was probably asking too much. 

“Well, you’re all set,” Nick said as he pulled the door open. He kept his hand on the door handle waiting for the guy to climb in. 

As he did, Nick found sudden inspiration. “Could I make it up to you by getting you new rolls of lettuce?” 

“First, they’re heads of lettuce. Second, not unless you want to be here at 6 a.m. next Thursday,” Monroe said. “That’s when they start setting up, and that’s when the produce is freshest.” 

“And really, Nick,” Monroe said, as he scanned Nick’s chest for his name badge, “Don’t trouble yourself. We can make a pact. You make an effort to not attack innocent civilians, I’ll make one to not lock my keys in my car.” 

“Agreed then,” Nick said with a shy smile, thinking this could be going worse. Then as Monroe turned the keys in his ignition, he said, “Well, it was nice meeting you.” 

“Uh, okay,” Monroe said before rolling up his window. Well, it wasn’t _disagreement_. 

Nick kept staring at the Volkswagen until it was long gone from his view. He had a feeling that unless serendipity was on his side, he wasn’t going to see Monroe again -- at least not without abusing his position as an officer of the law. 

Or forsaking his morning jog next Thursday, for some apples and oranges. And, perhaps, two heads of lettuce.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, I just started my second year of grad school. It has apparently inspired me to procrastinate by writing copious amounts of fanfiction. 
> 
> It's possible that I will get my act together soon and start doing my homework instead of flooding the Grimm AO3 tag. We'll see.


End file.
